


You Need A Uniform (so you won't be ignored)

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [274]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:47:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7352254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sparrowsverse asked for: Agent Carter. 008.</p><p>008: MSI: You’ll Rebel to Anything  (mild spoilers for s2 and <a href="http://imjustthemechanic.tumblr.com/post/119195975338/so-peggys-shield-file-says-she-was-born-in-1919">also this</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Need A Uniform (so you won't be ignored)

 

Peggy’s hand is steady as she writes her new date of birth on the buff-coloured form.  1919 looks good, she decides.  She had practiced, over and over, until the curve of the nines was automatic.  She had stared at her face in the mirror saying “I am twenty-one years old, sir,” until the lie was as natural as breathing.

Her heels click on the wooden floor as she approaches the desk clerk once more.  The clerk glances over the form; Peggy has the lie ready on her lips.

The clerk half-turns and nods at someone lurking by the filing cabinets.  The stranger is still in their overcoat, their hat in their hand.  The newcomer glances over the form.  “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one, sir,” there is no quaver.

“Come with me.”  Peggy follows the stranger down a side hallway, past rows of desks and small, paper-strewn offices.  “You were recommended,” the stranger offers as he whisks her deeper into the building.  “We always start file on those recommended; the Krauts are probably doing the same, after all.”  Peggy is shown into another office, this one just a bare desk, a chair on either side.  The door clicks shut, but isn’t locked.  The glass is clear, overlooking a bullpen.  Peggy sits so she is facing that way.  “Just the basics.”

Peggy sees where this is going.  So she’s ready for the question.  “Our files say you were born in 1921.”

“Clerical error,” Peggy replies, crisp and steady.  “You’re not the first.  My parents had to spend the first two weeks of my first school year arguing that I was actually old enough to be in the nursery class.”

The stranger fixes her with a long, steady stare.  Peggy meets his eye and holds it, _believing_  her lie.

The stranger breaks first.  He looks away, shrugs off his coat.  “Margaret Carter, age 21?  Welcome to the SSR.”


End file.
